Author:
M.J. Swenson has been writing stories since elementary school and earned a B.A. in Creative Writing from the University of St. Thomas, Minnesota. Besides writing and reading, M.J. also enjoys playing music and video games.

I woke up feeling that something had changed.

I blinked twice, waiting for my eyes to adjust, and glanced at the clock beside my bed. It read 6:38, as it did every morning. I slid out of bed and moved to my dresser, where I opened the third drawer and pulled out a dark blue V-necked shirt with short sleeves and a dark blue pair of pants. I changed in front of the mirror and examined myself. I looked just as I had the last time I’d looked in the mirror: long, straight, dark brown hair; blue eyes; an absurdly straight and narrow nose; the slight scar at the edge of my eyebrow. The scar whose origin I still couldn’t remember.

Familiar Assassins

Thane pulled away and left the room. Another door opened somewhere behind me and I glanced back to see the medic and Amabel striding toward me.


"Miranda," Amabel said. "So you know your part in the rebellion now, I take it? You're Thane's little pet."


"Excuse me," the medic interrupted, her voice quiet. "I need to check your wounds, Miranda. Would you mind lying back down?"


"No problem." I laid flat on the table - not without a struggle, of course - and the medic hovered over me, her deft hands finding their way between pieces of medical tape, checking the lacerations that crisscrossed my back. I could see Amabel sitting in a chair several feet away, her arms crossed over her chest, scowling. I wondered what kind of job Thane had to have given her for that sort of look to grace her features.


"Everything seems to be healing well," the medic said at last. "But I wouldn't overexert yourself. You might reopen a wound or rip the stitches."


"If I do," I said, "I'm sorry in advance."


Chapter 44